


We Both Know

by Lliyk



Series: Frostburn [4]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Are We Shocked? No, Dirty Talk, Dominance, F/M, I Was Not Thinking, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Inspired by Music, Non-bending AU, Office AU, Oral Sex, POV Zuko (Avatar), Pining, Porn with Feelings, Porn with some plot, Vaginal Sex, Wall Sex, What Was I Thinking?, prompted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:26:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28358499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lliyk/pseuds/Lliyk
Summary: Zuko knows that he is not a patient man.She preferred her lakeshore high rise over the sprawl of his suburban ranch house in the outskirts of downtown; she has never once put in more than a Friday night at his place, and she has never once stayed past noon.At first Zuko has no qualm with obliging Katara of her ways — their romantically involved relationship is new, and shedoeslive a hair’s breadth away from work...He knows that if he pushes he is likely to be met with an eruption, and while he does want her broken and crying, he only seeks to earn that of her in the safe, sane, and consensual ways.
Relationships: Katara/Zuko (Avatar)
Series: Frostburn [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2007067
Comments: 12
Kudos: 96
Collections: zutara (ATLA)





	We Both Know

**Author's Note:**

> for [anon](https://slpytea.tumblr.com/post/638653161859661824/), who requested _dirty talk_ , along with the flood of others who came in chanting “more [Lyk Dis](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26163724) verse”. taking place between [Yeah, I Said It](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27913672) and the monster that is [MYTWYT](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28176954), i give you [We Both Know by Bryson Tiller](https://open.spotify.com/track/3tuyK9qfen7lPMji9Saw3d?si=Qf4N-brlTryrz-Pc_xRo4A), on repeat. 
> 
> once again i am writing with, like, four hours of sleep on me, so if it, uh, _lost_ coherency.... it’s bc i’m incoherent! lmfao. anyway.
> 
> more requests out soon(ish). as always: beware the typos. comments are fuel ♡.

* * *

Zuko knows that he is not a patient man.

He is evenly spoken and derisive though not unkind, but he is also quick to turn his tongue snappish at the slightest hints of discrepancy. Others might elect to call him wry, or quick to start — if occasionally with his hands, he would neither confirm nor deny in his present age.

These things do not mean that he is not sociable, or capable of a gentle touch. He’s an art dealer, and a damn good one; he knows perfectly well the meticulous care and attention it takes to handle precious, precarious, and priceless treasures — even at detriment.

 _Cautious to a fault_ , his uncle once said.

If you asked him, he would simply answer that he was a man quite comfortable advocating for his own peace.

It has been almost two months since Katara first allowed herself into his home, and a month since she has allowed him into hers. With this has come the unspoken expectation that he continue to keep his hands to himself during work hours. She slyly rebuffs him at every turn and deftly redirects his attempts to bring her closer with the precision of a fox, maintaining her work decorum with him in a show of startling balance and poise that surely only a vixen has, for how it riles him so.

Outside of work rang up similarly. Even before she allowed him to come freely, she preferred her lakeshore high rise over the sprawl of his suburban ranch house in the outskirts of downtown; she has never once put in more than a Friday night at his place, and she has never once stayed past noon.

At first Zuko has no qualm with obliging Katara of her ways — their romantically involved relationship is new, she _does_ live a hair’s breadth away from work, and at the end of the day — _for_ _now_ — it doesn’t at all matter to him where he has her. As long as he has her — and he is confident that he does. She’s just as careful about letting it show in private as she is in public, but Zuko knows that Katara likes him for more than just his cock — though he certainly has his cock going for him in her favor, if their first time together was any measurement to go by. 

_Right here?_ She’d whispered, a kiss against his shaft. _On your desk..._

The memory sends a shiver down his spine, and he bids himself to focus. Zuko knows that he could be clearer to Katara on how utterly fucking gone he is for her, but he recognizes her cool nature for the cautionary tale that it is. Like him, she has been hurt before. Unlike him she wears her heart right where she likes to be touched; plain for the viewing, right around her throat. Her openness is both her defense and offense; clear, but perilous to get through. He knows that if he pushes he is likely to be met with an eruption, and while he _does_ want her broken and crying, he only seeks to earn that of her in the safe, sane, and consensual ways. 

Still, his respect for her boundaries does not make him any less of an impatient man.

Zuko has seen first hand — first touch, first tease, first taste — how sincerely Katara treats spoken word, and by this he knows that she is a woman who is far more tuned at parsing intent through action. 

Today is a Sunday; morning; and usually they have dinner every other work day; but Zuko is exhausted of the wait. He admits that he misses her, and decides that if he can’t make her stay he will at the very least gift her the reminder of how she feels about him.

Z: _Lunch._

It takes thirty minutes for his phone to light up with her name; Zuko spends the time thinking about what she will wear; surely she will not deny his presence. 

Kat: _Kita’s???_

Good.

Z: _Is that what you want?_

Kat: _It is_

Z: _You have an hour._

Kat: _Mkay_

Z: _Kat._

Kat: _Yes?_

Z: _Wear something pretty._

A beat. 

Kat: _I always do._

Zuko allows it.

He drinks her in with his gaze from top to bottom when she answers her door later. The tight, mauve, sleeveless number she’s sporting stops well above the knee, the toned curvature of her legs accentuated by the baby pink crisscrossing ribbons of satin that make up her heels. She has the ribbons tied into pretty, neat bows halfway up the back of her calves, and he cannot wait to unravel her.

Zuko splays a hand on her hip and starts walking her backward, ignoring her confused call of his name to lock the door behind him. “Katara.” He calls quietly as he turns back to her, just to make sure he has her attention. “Knees.”

She silences. Zuko rakes his gaze over her unblinkingly, and seconds later, without a word, Katara slowly lowers to her knees. 

“Perfect girl,” he rumbles. He reaches out to gently tug at her glossy bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. “I have been thinking about you all day, did you know that?”

Katara eyeballs him in tempered jest. “Maybe.”

“Hm.” Zuko exhales the intone softly, nonplussed in his intentions, nor at her coy. “how are you, princess?”

Her gaze softens just so. _Got you_ , he thinks.

“Good,” Katara’s octave drops. “how are you, Mr. Rokura?”

Warmth flushes through him, both amused and appreciative at the sound of his surname. Zuko remains silent as he looks down at her, giving himself the moment to enjoy the way black, swept in cheshire lines over her lashes, brightens her eyes; how her dark unbound hair frame her face; she never, ever keeps it down during the week and seeing the curling tresses fall down her back is his absolute favorite.

The heat of his desire bleeds toward saccharine. 

Katara shifts, her glossy pink lips forming the tiniest open mouthed pout as her voice tints with concern. “Daddy?”

He drags his gaze up from where his thumb rests against the corner of her mouth at the sound of her slow word, so rarely used.

 _Got you too_ , ocean eyes seem to tell him.

Gods. 

So utterly, utterly fucking gone. 

“Peaches.” Zuko answers reverently, beyond fine to continue. He chides himself for being silent long enough to warrant her worry. “I have something that I want to give you.”

“Oh.” Katara smiles up at him, full and beautiful. “Did I do something?”

“You will.” Zuko promises, then, quiet and soft: “Open your mouth, Katara.”

“ _Oh_.” She breathes. “Yes, sir _._ ”

Zuko watches with syrupy satisfaction as Katara’s eyes glaze over, her lips parting wide, and he hums deep in his throat as her obedience sends a warm, simmering pulse of desire up his chest. He’d been half hard the entire trip over, thinking about letting her have his cock in her mouth, but he is rock hard now, straining against his zipper and aching to spring free at the sight of her. “Very good,” he murmurs, unbuttoning his jeans. 

A tiny, begging moan escapes Katara when he frees his length. She looks up at him with wide, expectant eyes, and the warmth in him boils into a cocktail of enamoured heat.

“Go ahead,” he tells her throatily, infinitely turned on by her eagerness. “it’s all yours, Katara.”

Katara does not need to be told twice, and he adores her more for it. One hand rises to hook over the hem of his jeans, the other moving to cup cool fingers under his sac; holding him still as she lowers to lick a single hot stripe up the underside of his shaft.

Zuko exhales sharply. A low, pleased rumble starts in his chest as he watches Katara wrap her lips around the head of his cock, and he lets it fall out of him in a cooing litany of curses and praise when she flicks her gaze up to his and gives a single, teasing suck.

“That’s the way. _Yeah_.” Katara swirls her tongue, and electric pleasure shoots through his body. “Sinful mouth on such a good girl.”

Katara moans and fondles him in her palm as she lowers her mouth further, and the contrasting shades of sensation pull a ragged sound out of him. Zuko fits his hands in her hair as he lets himself lean back into the door, holding tight and bringing her with him. “ _Katara_. Katara,” he groans at the nasty, wet slurp of her hot mouth sucking tighter around his cock. “ _fuck_ ,” he swears quietly as she picks up her pace, her fist tight in his sagging denim. “you look _so_ pretty like that.”

Blue eyes glitter up at him. Katara slides her hands up the top of his thighs as she rears back slowly, revealing inch by glistening inch of his length as she serves him eye contact. Fire sings in his veins at her boldness. Zuko grips her by the chin, gentle and firm, and then carefully sinks himself to the back of her throat.

“Agni. I wanna fuck you so bad,” Zuko coos lightly as his hips buck from the raspy sound Katara vibrates through him. “listen to you. So eager for me, too...” 

Katara brings his hips forward, lashes already wet with a thin sheen of tears even as she encourages his claim. “You _want_ to take my cock, don’t you,” Zuko groans as he rocks forward at a sedated pace, inching deeper and deeper with every slow thrust. “such a slut for it,” Katara gags, her nails scraping sharply at his sides, ”I know. _Thaaat’s it_ , Kat.”

Zuko watches as Katara squirms on her knees, eyes brimming and thighs rubbing together as she meets his movement with careful bobs of her head under his hands. A fissure of white-hot pleasure zings through him, and knows then that if he does not get her off of her knees now, that he will not fuck all of her like he wants.

“So good for me, princess,” he tells her, easing her off of him with a gasp. “come up here. Let me look at you.”

Zuko slips his hands into hers, guiding her up from her knees with little effort. Katara’s mouth is swollen red, and she looks at him with dark ocean eyes. Zuko runs his fingers down her throat as he pointedly fists the leaking head of his shaft.

“Underwear,” he demands, wanting to see them around her bow-tied ribbons. “drop ‘em.”

Katara brings her bottom lip between her teeth, gaze locking briefly with his before shifting off to the side. She does not move, and a swell of wonder ebbs through him. With a blink, Zuko has his hand under her skirt. He does not meet lace, or satin, or cotton, but her bare folds, wet and slick at the tips of his fingers. 

“ _Perfect_ _girl_.” Zuko groans the words as he swipes his fingers over his lips for a taste. Katara’s breath hitches, and he grabs her by the hips so that he can press her roughly against the front door. “Why,” he growls, strained, pushing her skirt up and fitting one leg high around his hip, “ _why_ aren’t you wearing any panties, Katara?”

“I — oh, _Tui_.” Zuko echoes her raspy moan with a lilting growl as he watches his cock disappear into her. “ _Zuko._ ”

“This why?” He asks huskily, seized by the grasp of her searing walls around him. He slowly drags his length out to the tip, reveling in Katara’s high mewl. “Did you _know_ that I was going to fuck you on sight? Answer me.”

“Maybe,” she gasps, and Zuko slams into her without ruth. The door frame rattles. “y-yes!”

“Yes, _what?_ ” He growls.

Katara fists her hands in his shirt. “ _Yes, sir._ ”

“Tell me, then,” Zuko commands, hoisting her lowered leg over his arm, then the other, for the angle that _he_ knows will unwrap her coherency, and flattens his palms to the door. “tell me how it feels to know that I crave you, since you know so much.”

Whatever reply Katara makes to mutter is lost to the long, drawn out, strangled sound of a moan that pours out of her when he slams into her again. “Come on, Kat,” Zuko encourages; teases; teeth sharp over her bare shoulder. “c’mon. Let’s hear it.”

“ _Good_ ,” Katara starts her praise with baited breath. “you’re so nice to me. So attentive.” Hot pleasure sings through him at the confession. Zuko rolls his hips and bites his way up Katara’s neck; with a whimper the rest of her words pour out in a babble. “So in _control_ when I need it,” she moans, “even at work w-when all you do is _look_ and your hands aren’t on me. It feels — I _feel_ — _mmm_.”

Blissful pride scores through his veins, the affirmation she offers tugging sharply at his heart. Zuko tilts his head back and captures her mouth in an open, sloppy kiss. “Yeah?” he murmurs, wanting to hear it all again. “ _Mmm._ Is that right?”

“Yeah.” Katara echoes him, breathless and begging as he drags his cock out of her. He gasps raggedly, thrusting in, his pace taking up the rhythm of their litany as he buries his nose in the crook of her neck.

“Yeah?”

“Y-Yeah.”

“ _Yeah?_ ” 

“ _Ye — ah_!” Katara’s body writhes into a bow away from the door at her back, her throat working with a stuck, needy sound at the play of Zuko’s thrusts pitching faster and faster. “ _Zuko_ , Zuko. _Please_ fuck me harder.”

“ _Yeah,_ ” Zuko growls, relenting to her whim immediately at the request. “you _like_ it hard, don’t you?”

“— oh, _just_ like that —!”

“Of course you do,” Zuko’s growl ebbs off into a groan, his lungs hitching as tight pleasure floods south with the harsh snap of his hips. “you were _made_ for my cock.”

Katara whines, her eyes falling shut. “ _Naughty girl_.” Zuko refutes, unflattening a palm to ease back just so; just enough to witness the perfect, shiny, wet glide of his cock being enveloped by the cusp of her folds with every angled thrust. “ _Look_ , Katara.” He demands against her mouth, feeling his edge easing near. He purrs when Katara obediently drops her gaze with a stuttering gasp, and with careful adjustment Zuko readies his fingers. “Very good,” he rumbles. “now: say it for me.”

“Z-Zuko...”

 _“_ I want to hear you _say it_ , Katara _._ "

“ _Your cock was made for me_ ,” Katara cries out, walls shuddering and clenching like a vice around him. _Good girl, good girl;_ blown blue eyes, half lidded and glossy, lock brazenly with his. Her voice drops down into a husky whisper. “ _I_ was made for your cock — _oh_ , oh _fuck_.”

 _Sinful mouth._

Zuko gently circles the pads of two fingers over her clit, groaning harshly when her hands abandon his shoulders to tug sharply at his hair. The pleasurable sting emanates clear down his spine, and his hips stutter in answer at the shock.

 _“Katara.”_ He growls, dropping his mouth to her neck. In his ear, her breath falters tellingly. “ _Beg._ ”

“Make me cum.” Katara uselessly cants her hips, chasing both the rough slam of his own and his feather-light touch as she babbles. “I — I’m _close_ — if _you_... _In_ me, sir _—_ ” 

Zuko hears no direct plea, but the words spear through him with no less vigor, so he _allows it_. He moans loudly, lips itching for a kiss, but lo’ and behold, Katara is not finished. 

“—such a talented fuck, I knew it, I knew it—”

Pieces of the memory flickers across his mind again — her, on his desk; him, tongue deep; his surname on her mouth, and a sharp hiss as he gave a languid suck — he rolls his thumb over her clit, _Zuko Rokura_ in every form of calligraphy that he can bear to recall for nostalgia’s sake, and probability’s too. 

“ _Tui_.” Katara’s breathing turns desperate and shallow. “ _More_ ,” she moans. “ _please_ , oh please.”

The door to Katara’s apartment rattles in it’s locked frame as he pumps roughly into her at the word. Zuko captures her mouth — _mine, mine, mine_ — as he feels her clench around him, a growl vibrating out from him into her as he drills away his aching need as deep as he can reach. It’s open and wet and _oh, Zuko_ steals his breath, but it’s what he wants; she’s what he wants; a twining of bodies in a sticky slick mess. He’s fucked — so fucked, and he has been since the beginning. 

How his hold along the glossy wood has held is a mystery happily unsolved as the edge of his orgasm nears. Katara tosses her head back against the door with a bodily tremble, fingers flexing against his scalp, and Zuko watches, a guttural sound ripping from his chest, as the vision of her release and the corporeality of her perfect, wet heat milking him settle over his senses. 

_“Zuko!_ ” She gasps, and a mangled groan stutters out of him as pleasure, electric and blazing hot, shoots through his veins. Zuko stills as he drops his forehead to Katara’s shoulder, the curve of his body shrouding her shaking one against the door. The thick dribbles of the warm white mess of his release oozes from where his cock remains, buried and bottomed out, between the fluttering grip of her glistening folds, brings another moan to his mouth.

The fingers in his hair have him raising his head; the kiss that Katara gives him is searing and needy, a domineering clash of lips and tongue that surprises him pleasantly. 

“ _You_...” she breathes against his mouth, and there’s something in the way she says it that brings back that simmer of affectionate warmth to his chest, right along with his continued surprise. Katara whimpers, and he hums into her fleeting touch. “Forget lunch,” her fingers still smooth away his hair. “Stay, Zuko,” she says. The warmth in him unfurls into something else entirely. “just stay.”

The weight of the invitation and the possible implication that underlines it sits heavily between them as he leans back to look at her. Victory licks at him as ocean eyes meet his, brilliant blues that soften and flash with the things that he dare not ask of her yet. 

_Got you_ , he thinks, unable to help himself or the shiver that runs down his spine at the look. _Good._

Zuko presses closer to Katara, inhaling her gasp with the sharp intake of his own at the pressing friction. 

“Is that what you want?” He asks her casually, careful not to tell. Katara uses her leverage in his hair to bring his mouth back to hers.

“It is.”

Zuko sighs into the kiss.

So utterly, _utterly_ , utterly fucking gone. 

**Author's Note:**

> ♩ don’t know it but you’re stuuuck with me... ♫ ♪ ♬ 


End file.
